We begin anew
i'd been meaning to start putting these up a couple of weeks ago. but since then two things occurred. first, i suddenly had a lot of work to do. second, three quarters of this story made it into the wash and i've been trying to reconstruct them. it wouldn't be so bad except that they are the middle parts. so i have to make sure they line up the beginning and where i'm at right now. with any luck, i'll be writing again soon.
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The house was unassuming, deceptive. It was a bum that sits quietly begging for change. A bum who's previous life never crossed your mind. Who knew it would become notorious? Who knew it would become more?
When I first stepped inside 'dinge' grew substance and began tapping incessantly against me. What little sunlight, which wished to die, squeezed past the many towers lining the kitchen counter. Suggestions of time clustered in columns. Once they teetered but had since crusted over into some baleful sculptures of porceline and grime. It was evident that more money was spent on dishes than detergent. Later, I grew suspicious of the stain in the bath tub, it may have been sentient.
The drumkit shared a room with George the pitbull. If I had to guess I would say George wore the pants in that relationship. Often times he would leave little piles of himself behind in the room to keep the kit company. He had a habit of chewing on shoes. Whether they were being worn or not bothered him a bit less than not at all.
In the corner of the living room was what at one point claimed to be a pool table. The green cloth peeked out from beneath an enormous pyramid constructed from empty beer cans. The pyramid peaked at the ceiling. Laying beside the aluminum monument was a large wicker basket filled with discharged nitrous-oxide cartridges.
The room itself held a couple of mismatched couches, a tv, pieces of what looked to be a loosely constructed stereo and crates worth of punk and hardcore 7" records. Atop the tv was a small tank. Within the tank lived an anole lizard that fiercely guarded what appeared to be a pot plant.
This is where it began. This is where the mayhem started. This was the best part of my life.
____________________________________________________
The house was unassuming, deceptive. It was a bum that sits quietly begging for change. A bum who's previous life never crossed your mind. Who knew it would become notorious? Who knew it would become more?
When I first stepped inside 'dinge' grew substance and began tapping incessantly against me. What little sunlight, which wished to die, squeezed past the many towers lining the kitchen counter. Suggestions of time clustered in columns. Once they teetered but had since crusted over into some baleful sculptures of porceline and grime. It was evident that more money was spent on dishes than detergent. Later, I grew suspicious of the stain in the bath tub, it may have been sentient.
The drumkit shared a room with George the pitbull. If I had to guess I would say George wore the pants in that relationship. Often times he would leave little piles of himself behind in the room to keep the kit company. He had a habit of chewing on shoes. Whether they were being worn or not bothered him a bit less than not at all.
In the corner of the living room was what at one point claimed to be a pool table. The green cloth peeked out from beneath an enormous pyramid constructed from empty beer cans. The pyramid peaked at the ceiling. Laying beside the aluminum monument was a large wicker basket filled with discharged nitrous-oxide cartridges.
The room itself held a couple of mismatched couches, a tv, pieces of what looked to be a loosely constructed stereo and crates worth of punk and hardcore 7" records. Atop the tv was a small tank. Within the tank lived an anole lizard that fiercely guarded what appeared to be a pot plant.
This is where it began. This is where the mayhem started. This was the best part of my life.
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